Is it Worth Your Life?
by Kitty-kraze
Summary: Sam finds himself in a tight situation which turns into a dangerous fight for his life. Will Team One be able to save their teammate or will they be forced to watch his execution? Let me know if the rating is too high.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1:** _**A/N:**__ Hi guys! Sorry this chapter is so short! I came up with this idea a week or two ago and I've just been letting it grow. I'm going to guess this story will be between 10 and 15 chapters. I hope you like it! Please R&R! Thanks!_

Samuel Braddock is extremely exhausted. The team is just finishing up a hot call; the subject is already cuffed and stuffed. The dumb teen thought it would be a wise idea to hold his girlfriend hostage at gunpoint on the roof of their school simply because he thought the cops would bend to his demand of 50 oz. of cocaine. Yeah, not happening. The kid fires a few shots into the air but nothing serious. Sam has been laying in his sniper perch kicking himself awake every two minutes. He is just so tired! Maybe it is from the two and a half hours of sleep he had last night or the lack of caffeine this morning. Either way, at three pm, Sam is dragging. By the time they finish with the call, (the girlfriend is uninjured, just a bit rattled) the team only has an hour left in their ten hour shift before they have all of tomorrow off duty.

As Sam is walking very slowly down the concrete stairs of the adjacent building to the school, he thinks he hears something. Warily glancing around, he doesn't find anything so he just keeps plodding down the steps a bit more alert. Again, Sam hears the noise. But again, nothing is there. He feels like someone is watching him. No, maybe it's just his imagination. He's almost down to the 2nd floor of the seven story building when something very heavy from the floor above him suddenly drops down onto him. Sam's head smashes into the concrete landing, knocking him unconscious. His body limply sprawls out across the tile and his right arm is twisted at a severe angle, clearly broken. His five attackers slink out from their strategically planned camouflaged covers. They are all men dressed in all black with ski masks pulled over their faces only showing their eyes and mouths. They kneel next to the SRU officer's body to quickly and silently strip him of his com-link, weapons, vest and cell phone. The ringleader points to another man in the small group, presumably the 2nd in-command.

"Help me carry him." The leader says quietly.

The two men lift Sam's limp body off the floor, one grabbing his arms, one at his legs; to carry him down the last two flights of stairs with the remaining three men protectively surrounding them.

Outside, the Team doesn't know what is happening. They hear Sam grunt and a quiet scuttle sounding around him but the line quickly turns silent.

"Sam! Sam, talk to me. Status. C'mon Sam, status!" Greg shouts.

Everyone grows sick with sorry when their teammate does not respond.

"C'mon Sam, speak to me!" Jules cries.

Greg shakes his head 'no.' "It's no use. The line's dead."

"Well, where is he? Why isn't he calling us?! Oh Greg, he's been shot. He's been shot and he's bleeding out or-or-or dead. We have to get to him!" Jules frantically concludes.

"Jules," Greg starts.

"Greg, there's movement on the front entrance." Ed says staring through his binoculars pointing to the building next to the school.

"Let's go get him." Greg states grabbing a shield.

Spike doubles up shields with Jules, Ed with Wordy and Greg on his own. The Team quickly approaches the parking lot of the looming building just as five armed men in black burst through the front door. Three immediately start firing at the SRU officers while the other two race for a nearby green van holding a limp body in their arms. Team one returns fire as the two men hop in the van as do the other three.

"They have Sam!" Jules cries as the green van speeds away.

"Winnie! Plate number: 8A37C ugh, they're too far away! It's a green Toyota van. See if those first numbers pick anything up." Spike says as they jump into their SUVs trying to follow the van.

"Boss, he's got a bad concussion." Terrance, the man 2nd in command, states checking over the young man slumped up against the back van window. "His right arm is broken in three different places."

He was formerly a paramedic, one of the best in his station. Then life happened. He'll spare you the details.

"It's fine." The ringleader states briefly glancing in the rearview mirror and tensely sitting in the driver's seat driving very fast through the back alleys. "It's fine as long as he's alive."

Terrance nods and grimaces. They had not pounced on their victim too hard, just hard enough to knock him out. However, the accidental dropping of the cop down the last flight of concrete stairs had not been planned. A small trickle of blood is starting to seep through Sam's thick blonde hair from the back of his head's harsh meet-and-greet with the concrete. The leader pulls into an old warehouse just as Sam starts to come around. The ex-medic winces as the cop's eyes flutter open and his hand flies to the back of his head. Sam starts to glance panicking at his captors as they drag him out of the van.

'_Who are these men and where am I?'_ Sam thinks as his hands are being bound behind his back with duck-tape.

A large man grabs Sam's right arm and starts to pull him forward. The young cop yells in agony and refuses to move until the leader smacks him in the back of his head with the metal handgun. Sam breathes in sharply as the weapon makes direct contact with his wound. More blood seeps through Sam's hair as the barrel has broken through the skin. The leader shove the gun under Sam's jaw, the safety flicked off and with an icy hatred in his voice snarls, "Walk."

Sam reluctantly complies. The five men split off into different hallways until there is only the leader and the muscleman left. They lead Sam into a large room with half of the room brightly lit and the other half dim. A single metal chair sits in the middle. The muscleman sits Sam down in the chair then proceeds to wrap duck-tape around Sam's upper arms, bounding them to the top of the chair. He then bound each of Sam's legs to the two front legs of the chair. Meanwhile, the leader has dragged a stool over to the chair and placed a sniper rifle on it positioning it so the barrel is flush against Sam's right temple. He unravels a long, thin tube with a large red button on the hand-molded black handle. He wraps his hand around the handle, his thumb hovering over the red button.

"You see; if I push this button, a rush of oxygen will be forced through the tube and within seconds, expand the section of tubing in between the area in front of the trigger and the trigger itself essentially causing the trigger to be pulled, discharging a bullet which will puncture through your skull and kill you. Is that clear? Now, look at the camera when you are speaking." He says pointing to a barely visible video camera on a tripod in the murky shadows before Sam.

Sam gulps and prays his team will find him before it is too late. "What do you want from me?"

_**A/N: **__Ha! Cliffy! Hahaha! What can I say? I like making you guys sweat! Tell me what you think! I really think you guys are going to like this book; and I really hope you do! Please review! It makes me feel better! Thanks so much for reading! _


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:** _**A/N:**__ Hi, sorry it took me so long to post this chapter. I'm writing 12 other books/poems/essay thingys right now so yeah, busy, busy, busy. Always happy to post a new chapter though! If you ever want to read any of my original (not fan based) works, go onto and search 'theoneYou'vealwaysloved' under 'writer'. If you've ever read my profile page on Fiction Press and you understand why my pen name is what it is, I applaud you. . Anyway, on with the chapter….I hope you guys like it! Please R&R! Thanks!_

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"What do you want from me?" Sam asks cautiously eyeing the sniper rifle next to his temple and the man holding the trigger tube rig.

"Ah, Constable Braddock; young men are so naïve these days. What I want from you is to sit and listen to my story. No one wants to hear it, no one cares and no one is doing a d*** thing about it!" The captor yells.

"Sir, can you tell me your name so this conversation won't be so tense?" Sam asks, barely making eye contact with his captor.

"A more pleasant conversation? That's what you think a name will do. Wow. I cannot believe how poorly the Strategic Response Unit is training you! It won't help but my name is Micah."

"Micah? Like the seven chapter book in the Bible between Jonah and Nahum, Micah?" Sam asks.

"Yep, that's the one. You can tell how holy my mother was feeling when she named me that wretched name." Micah scoffs.

"No, Micah's a great book. Um, I think its Chapter 1 verse 4 in Micah that says, 'The mountains melt beneath Him and the valleys split apart, like wax before the fire, like water rushing down a slope.' That is how powerful our God is." Sam states temporarily lost in the beauty of the words.

"Don't talk to me about God. There is no God. There never was and there never will be. Keep dreaming kid. Keep reading all that crap in that 4,000 year old book and you'll start believing all those lies."

"What? Micah, God's word isn't lies. It's what has happened and what will happen. Don't you see that?" Sam asks taken aback at this man's rock-hard opinion about God.

"No, Samuel," Micah snarls stressing Sam's name. "I don't see that. How could _you_ see that? Do you think you are holier than thou because you are named after _two_ books in the Bible? You think you're better than me?"

"No, I don't think I'm any better than the next guy in the lineup. We're all sinners, and no one calls me by Samuel except my father who does that whether he's mad at me or not. I just go by Sam." The young officer explains shyly.

"Fine Sam, if you believe in God soooo much; prove it. Prove to me that He even exists. That He is even part of this world and cares about it. Prove it." Micah challenges.

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Team One was hot on the heels of the green Toyota van that held their injured teammate until they lost them in the menagerie of alley grids.

"So where do go from here, Spike?" Greg asks through the com-link connecting him, Ed and Wordy to Jules and Spike that are in the other SUV behind them.

"I don't know, Boss. Winnie, do you have anything on that partial license plate?"

"No, sorry Spike. It pulled up about 18,000 entries. Even when I put in all the key words, it was still at 8,000. That's too many to go through." She says a bit disappointed in herself.

"Ok, thanks for trying. Could we try calling Sam's phone? They might have it and we could get a GPS location." Spike suggests.

Greg glances at Ed and Wordy as he shrugs. "Give it a shot, Spike. We have to get Sam back. There's no telling what they'll do to him or what they want."

A few seconds pass before Spike softly says, "It's no use, his phone is in the building he was sniping in. How are we supposed to reach his kidnappers?"

"Jules," Ed cuts in. "Do you have any idea of who would want to take Sam? Have you two been receiving calls at weird times at night or anything?"

"No, I don't have a clue. He doesn't live with me Ed, by the way. He won't even spend the night even if it's really late. I don't know why, but I don't think anyone's after him."

"Oh, right. Sorry Jules, I guess I just figured, well since, ugh, you know what I mean." Ed stammers.

"Yeah, can we just bring Sam home?" she asks impatiently.

"We're trying, Jules. We're trying." Greg states. "Well, let's just set up the command truck and we'll have to wait until we receive any contact from Sam's kidnappers."

Everyone simultaneously sighs. No one wants to just sit and wait especially when Sam's life could be hanging in the balance. Ed and Spike take both of the SUV's and the rest of the team back to the school where they had left their command truck. When they have finished setting everything up inside and were just getting ready to explode from the pressing feeling of helplessness, the phone rings. Greg's phone rings. Everyone stops breathing as Greg motions for Spike to record the call and track it.

"Hello, this is Sargent Greg Parker." He speaks into the phone.

"Yeah, I know. Look, if you want Sam back, you're going to have to do exactly what I say." The man on the other end states gruffly.

"Ok sir and what would that be?"

"I'll give you the location and you have to be there in ten minutes or he'll be blown away." The voice says.

"Ok and what is the location?" Greg asks the team growing worried as they too hear the conversation on speaker phone.

"2687 Colombia Alley, warehouse #73.2. Ten minutes Parker or we will blow him away."

"Ok, ok, I got the address but can I speak to Sam? I just want to hear his voice and make sure he's alive. Ok? Can I do that?" Greg asks as Spike is furiously trying to track the call.

"Fine, here he is." The voice says. The team can hear a muffled scuttle before the phone officially switches users.

"S-Sarge?" Sam asks quietly. His voice is shaky and pained. Jules starts to cry softly when she hears his voice.

"Sam, I'm right here buddy. We're going to get you out of there ok? Don't worry buddy. We'll be there in ten minutes." Greg says as everyone, including himself, is climbing into their SUV's.

"Sarge, tell Jules that I love her."

"Ok buddy," Greg starts but is cut off as there is a loud thud on the other end a split-second before Sam screams. "Sam! Sam, talk to me! C'mon Sam, talk to me!" he shouts.

The phone is passed off to the first voice again. Even as Greg is in the SUV driving towards the warehouse with the team, he can hear the person on the other end trying to get far away from where Sam is.

"Now that you know he's alive," the voice states still hurrying away from Sam. "You won't give us any more trouble will you?"

"What did you do to him?" Greg demands sharply. He can still faintly hear Sam screaming and gasping in the background.

"Its fine, Parker. He's alive. He just needed to be a little more influenced to shut up when he's told to. That's all." The voice states coldly acting as if Sam was a misbehaving young boy and not the 27 year old ex-soldier and cop that he is.

"What did you do to him!" Greg asks again, growing very irritated and worried about his teammate.

"That's for us to know, and you to find out. All I'm saying is that he's alive and you should be very, very happy about that, considering what he has already done." The voice states, low and gravelly once more.

"Pray tell, what has Sam already done?"

"That information is confidential between your man and my boss. I hope you're driving over here 'cause you only have five minutes left before he gets a bullet through his head."

"I think I got that part." Greg states highly annoyed. In the background, he suddenly hears more screams; Sam's screams. Greg struggles to not vomit in the car when he hears his teammate yelling in pain. Over Sam's bloodcurdling screams, Greg can faintly hear a voice shouting instructions.

"Got to go." The voice says hurriedly and hangs up.

"Ok team, we should have time to scout out the building and make an entrance plan before our time is up. No, I don't know what they're doing to Sam, but we're going to have to hope that he can take care of himself for another few minutes before we can get him out of there; hopefully in one piece." Greg states, his voice heavy with worry and guilt from not being able to keep Sam safe in the first place. The building he was sniping in had been cleared of citizens; Sam was supposed to have been the only person in the whole building with uni's outside guarding all entrances and exits.

"Copy." The whole team states simultaneously.

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Sam sits gasping for air in the metal chair as his eyes involuntarily leak tears from the extreme pain. He doesn't dare want to spare a glance down at his right shin but Micah grabs him by the back of the neck and shoves his head down. Sam tries not to look at his shattered shin bone that has broken through the skin, nor the gash right above it where his pant leg from his knee down had been cut off with a knife. The muscleman hadn't bothered to gather the material and slowly cut it off; more like he just ran the knife around Sam's leg, successfully cutting off his uniform pant leg as well as creating a deep gash all the way around Sam's lower leg. No matter how hard he tried though, he couldn't help seeing his injuries and gagging a bit. Whether the thought of the wounds made his stomach turn or the sickening sensation of blood dripping down his leg, his stomach flipped and flopped more than a fish out of water.

"You still think you can prove to me that there is a God who "loves" you?" Micah challenges again.

"I said I would prove it to you, didn't I?" Sam struggles to say.

"Well, just wanted to let you know that your team is coming to quote on quote "rescue" you and I will let you go with them, once you hear my story and denounce your faith."

"What?! Oh, I'll listen to your story. I'll listen to it all day long, but there is no way I am going to denounce my faith or my Lord Jesus Christ. Not a chance." Sam states firmly although he feels his body weakening with the blood loss.

"Ha! You are too cute Samuel Braddock. What are you? Back in the first grade? 'No, I'm going to sit with Sally on the school bus because I told her at the beginning of the year that we would always sit together.' I can't believe you." Micah states laughing as his voice imitates that of a first grader. "I'll tell you what. You prove to me all of your lame little points that God exist and that he even gives a d*** about us on this earth and if you convince me of all those things, maybe I'll let you go. If you can't, which of course you can't, then I'll tell you exactly why there is no God, there is no "loving Father of the universe" and of course he doesn't give a crap about us because he doesn't exist. Let the games, begin."

Sam takes a deep breath and prays for a second asking God to let his words move in Micah's heart before continuing. "In the Bible,"

"No. The Bible is a bunch of lies. Give me real proof. No Bible characters, no scripture, no God said this, real. Give me something real. A real outside, non-Christian source that you claim says Jesus or God or however you want to call it, exists." Micah interrupts, throwing Sam a hard pitch for him to swing at.

Sam falls silent for a moment, thinking. _'This is going to be a lot harder.'_ It's hard enough to sway an atheist to believe in God's existence. It's even harder to sway and anti-theist. Given these rules, it's the hardest challenge Sam has ever had. Say it right or bullet through the head? There's not much wiggle room for mistakes. Sam has about five centimeters of wiggle room in this case.

"My offer is still on the table."

"No thanks."

"Fine, be stupid. Not my fault if you die."

"Let me start here. Flavius Josephus was a 1st century Romano-Jewish historian and he wrote biographies that praised the person far too much for the priests and royal ancestors who recorded the Jewish history. He placed particular emphasis on the First Jewish-Roman War that brought the destruction of Jerusalem and its temple. His works provide valuable insight on the background of early Christianity and first century Judaism. Josephus was a Jew and he didn't believe in Jesus as the Son of God but in _The Antiquities of the Jews_, book 18, chapter 3, and paragraph 3 I believe, he wrote that there was Jesus, who he called a wise man and this Jesus does wonderful works and is a teacher of men. He goes on to say that _**He was [the] Christ; and when Pilate, at the suggestion of the principle men amongst us, had condemned him to the cross, those that loved him at the first did not forsake him, for he appeared to them alive again the third day, as the divine prophets had foretold these and ten thousand other wonderful things concerning him; and the tribe of the Christian, so named from him, are not extinct at this day.**_ Josephus was considered to be one of the greatest historians of antiquity and he independently proves that Jesus was a real person who did indeed exist. He also confirms Jesus' crucifixion ordered by Pontius Pilate and the resurrection of Christ on the third day. Josephus confirms the Biblical account of Jesus living, breathing, walking, teaching and dying on this earth, just like the Bible has said for at least 4,000 years." Sam explains excitedly.

"That's great Mister Braddock. You have one person. One person who could very well have been writing purely deceitful literary phrases in order to steer everyone who followed him to into believing a fictional character." Micah shoots back although a bit impressed with the cop's delivery.

"Ok, well what about Gaius Plinius Caecilius Secundus, or Pliny the Younger? He was an author, lawyer and magistrate of Ancient Rome who lived from 61 AD – ca. 112 AD. There are hundreds of letters that we have, that he wrote. Some of them are addressed to emperors and even Cornelius Tacitus. Pliny was a very notable person who served under Trajan who reigned AD 98 – 177. He was considered a moderate and honest man. While he was in correspondence with Trajan, he reports his actions against the Christians. He asks Trajan how he should go about handling these Christians and enlightened the emperor that he has forced Christians to curse Jesus while under painful, torturous interrogation. He is not only aware of Jesus but he also gives detailed descriptions of the early church's activities. He writes: _**In the meanwhile, the method I have observed towards those who have denounced to me as Christians is this: I interrogated them whether they were Christians; if they confessed it I repeated the question twice again, adding the threat of capital punishment, if they still persevered, I ordered them to be executed.**_ Pliny not only didn't follow Christian faith, but he was torturing Christians and threatening to kill them. If Jesus was only a fiction character in a 4,000 year old book, why were people willing to die for their faith? Why do people today, still die for their belief in Jesus as Lord and Savior?" Sam asks pressing his point harder. If Jesus didn't exist, why would people give up their lives, willingly?

"Because they're all stupid and you all believe in a cult." Micah states.

"You believe Julius Caesar exsited right?" Sam asks knowing the answer already.

"Duh, of course; who doesn't? It's Julius Caesar! You know: _'Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears; I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. The evil that men do lives after them; the good is oft interred with their bones; so let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus hath told you Caesar was ambitious; if it were so, it was a grievous fault, and grievously hath Caesar andswer'd it. Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest – for Brutus is an honourable man; so they all, all honourable men – come I to speak in Caesar's funeral. He was my friend, faithful and just to me: but Brutus says he was ambitious; and Brutus is an honourable man. He hath brought many captives home to Rome whose ransoms did the general coffers fill: did this in Caesar seem ambitious? When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept: ambition should be made of sterner stuff: yet Brutus says he was ambitious; and Brutus is an honourable man. You all did see that the Lupercal I thrice presented him a kingly crown, which he did thrice refuse: was this ambition? Yet Brutus says he was ambitious; and, sure, he is an honourable man. I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke, but here I am to speak what I do know. You all did love him once, not without cause: what cause withholds you then, to mourn for him? O judgment! Thou art led to brutish beasts, and men have lost their reason. Bear with me; my heart is in the coffin there with Caesar, and I must pause till it come back to me.'_ How could Julius Caesar _**not**_ have existed?!" Micah exclaims, reciting the famous monologue perfectly.

"Good. I'm glad we agree on one thing." Sam states, weakly smiling. He is in a wretchedly vicious pain cycle and he feels himself growing weaker by the minute from his extensive loss of blood.

Micah just nods emptily. His face, for once, holds no emotion. It's just blank; especially as he stares at the SRU officer's injuries. "Are you ok?" he asks when Sam coughs and chokes, gasping for air at the end with his eyes tightly clamped shut.

"Mmhnm," Sam 'says'. "My leg – my leg is numb. I can't feel it." Sam states, his gaze barely meeting that of his captor as his stumbles over his words. He is losing too much blood and he knows it.

'_God, I don't know how much longer I can do this without slipping unconscious.' _He thinks. _'God, if it is Your will, please bring the team soon and help me speak Your word to Micah. He needs to hear it and I know You're working in his heart, just help me get through to him.'_ Sam prays silently in his mind.

"What do you mean you can't feel it?! How is it numb?" Micah asks crouching down in front of Sam's right leg.

He then realizes that from the bone puncturing through the cop's skin and the deep gash all the way around Sam's calf basically, that none of the blood that is still dripping down Sam's leg has clotted any of the wounds. He also realizes that his muscleman probably cut open a small artery in the cop's calf. When he touches the area around the broken bone as gently as he can, Sam lets out a terrifying scream of severe pain.

"Shhh, shhhh, just breathe through it." Micah tries to soothe the near panicked officer.

After a few shaky gasps, Sam carefully lets his head to drop backwards over the top of the chair so he can rest for a minute. He closes his eyes and allows his body to lose all composure. Sam feels the tiny black dots trying so hard to overtake him and he nearly lets them until he feels Micah frantically shaking his left arm and tapping his cheek, anything to get a response. Sam sighs quietly as he opens his eyes and struggles to lift his head.

"Don't do that to me." Micah says sighing with relief. "Don't do that to me again, Braddock. I thought you went into cardiac arrest right here; you freaked me out kid."

When Sam just stares at the man his mind now just barely registers as Micah, with his eyes only half-opened, his captor calls for a First Aid kit and a bottle of Gatorade. The man, known as Terrance to everyone else in the warehouse expect for Sam, brings what Micah called for, bandages the cut on Sam's leg and tries to bandage his broken shin after wiping antiseptic on it. Micah is holding the bottle of Gatorade up to Sam's mouth trying to coax him into drinking it.

"It's not poisoned is it?" Sam asks warily.

"What?! No, it's Gatorade. It's not poisoned. I promise."

"Ok." Sam sighs and lets Micah give him sips of the sports drink.

Only once does Micah give Sam too much liquid and watches in guilt as the young cop splutters in coughs and chokes.

"Sorry, sorry." He mutters as Sam tries to capture his breath back.

"Where were we?" Sam asks quietly when Terrance has left.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Where were we in our discussion?" Sam asks again.

"Braddock, you don't look well and I know you don't feel well. Just give it up for a few minutes and rest. We – we can talk about this later sometime, maybe. I'll let you go to your team so you can receive the proper medical attention and maybe when I get out of jail or if you ever want to visit me, we can talk about this some more. It's not important right now."

"No, no. You and I are talking about this now. It's the most important, right now." Sam insists.

"You're messing with your own life, kid. You don't have to do this."

"Yes I do. It's ok if I die. I know where I'm going. I'm just worried about you, Micah."

"You're killing yourself Sam."

"That's ok. What were we talking about?"

"You asked if I believed if Julius Caesar existed and I said of course and recited the whole friends, romans, countrymen monologue. I learned it in high school. I always loved Shakespeare."

"Right, Caesar. Now you and I both know that Julius Caesar is one of the most trusted and celebrated historical figures, right? I think he lived from 100-44 BC and the earliest manuscript copy of his writings goes back to 900 AD, making the best evidence of Caesar's existence is 1,000 years after he died. There are ten copies of Caesar's _Gallic Wars_ ancient manuscripts so that proves that the Bible has not been lost in translation especially since we still have the same Greek manuscripts of the Bible today. I've heard it put this way: If you still have a question about whether Jesus existed after hearing this, then you also must be positive that Julius Caesar was a completely fictional character and never really existed." Sam presses feeling a bit better from the Gatorade.

"That is interesting, Sam. I haven't ever heard it put that way. I still need more proof though." After a long pause he looks straight into Sam's eyes, sees the 'pretty bad' concussion Terrance was talking about but he also sees the pain, the weakness, and the years far beyond Sam's own. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm ok. I'll pull through."

"Boss!" the muscleman's voice shouts from his guard post at the door. "They're here."

"Ah, good. Take them up to the box." Micah states smiling slightly before returning his attention to his hostage.

The muscleman allows the team entrance and leads them up a pair of rickety old stairs to an opera box-like thing where they can watch the action below. Through his hazy eyes, Sam can barely make out his teammates slowly walking up the steps. How he longs to hold Jules in his arms and fall sobbing in front of Greg like a child who has made a very big mistake and is furiously apologizing. But, no. He must sit and wait and keep going. He must keep proving his case. And he will not stop until it is finished.

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_**A/N:**__ Ok, I'm really sorry it took so long to post this. Life wasn't busy. Then became extremely busy. So haters go ahead and hate, but for the rest of you, ya gotta love me! Thanks again for reading…please review! P.S. I am now beta-reading so go to my profile page to find out the specifics! :) _

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Some information was used from the following websites: (since I ever so wonderfully forgot to take my Bible notes with me)

/jesus-exist-historical-evidence-jesus-christ/


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**___**A/N:**__ Sup peeps! How's life? I hope your enjoying this story and I am now available to beta-read…just check my beta-reading profile and preference to see the specifics. __I'm so sorry it has been so long since I've posted anything! In about a week it won't be so inconsistent. I promise. Anyway, I really hope you enjoy this chapter and if you don't understand something, or have questions about what I'm writing about and why I'm doing it, or just questions about God, feel free to PM me and I will get back to you as soon as possible. Thanks for reading and please review. Enjoy!_

The team solemnly walks up the rickety steps to the opera box overlooking the patchy and dimly lit warehouse. They all take a deep breath to stay calm when their eyes skim over Sam. A sniper rifle pressed against his right temple, bandages on his right leg from the knee down, his right arm severely twisted and presumably broken, his eyes glazed over and frightened but determined, a very ashen face, a Gatorade bottle sitting on the floor next to him on the left; not that he could ever reach it with both legs bound separately to the legs of the chair and hands tied together with his arms tied to the top of the chair; a bloody sledge hammer lying abandoned on the cement near him and a crazed hostage-taker holding the trigger for the rifle that can end Sam's life in a split-second. That's not exactly how any team wants to see a teammate.

"Team One," Micah's voice booms loudly in the silent warehouse. "Welcome to; my palace. I do hope you enjoy your first class seats to the gladiator match you are about to witness. I only save them for special guests. Now, I know cops. All they want to do is to get their business done and hurry off; but that is no way to treat your host. Today, you will be watching Samuel Braddock debate for his life on the subject of God's existence using only outside, non-biblical references." He explains in a very elaborate voice.

Micah pauses hoping for a reaction from his second set of hostages. He sighs annoyed when he doesn't receive any response.

"What's wrong with you people?! Open your mouth, loosen up. You guys are so d*** quiet! Talk a little! Live a little! You act like you live under a rock and have never seen a warehouse before!" he exclaims exasperated. "For God's sake, Sam's bleeding his guts out and he's _way_ more talkative than you people!" Micah states still not getting a reaction. "Fine, be that way. Alright Samuel, let the games, _begin!_"

The team stares worriedly at Sam as he gulps, takes a deep breath and begins to speak.

"Micah, I think you are failing to understand what I'm trying to say here, buddy. You're listening to me so I know you're engaged to what I'm saying, but you're always looking up at my team or towards the door. You just don't want to focus your attention on my words. I want to help you understand God's never-ending love, forgiveness and grace. Micah, He loves you. Don't you see that by now?" Sam asks thanking God that the team has come to hopefully get him out of here when he's done and not here to watch his head being blown off.

"No, Sam. I don't see that 'cause all you've "proven" is that God exists, and you haven't even really proved that either."

"Greg, do you think this is a good idea?" Ed asks quietly as a guard leads them all into a small opera-box.

"We don't really have a choice, Eddie." Parker whispers in return.

"Ok everyone, I need you to lay all of your weapons on the floor for the moment and wait for further instruction." One of the three guards state.

Team One glances at each other before hesitantly laying their weapons, including tasers and pepper spray on the floor.

"Alright, you may take _one_ weapon of your choice. If it's a gun, take all of the bullets out except for one. Boss said if you are really SRU you would've been able to take us out already. We all think you're just a cop-out." The guard explains in his rough voice as each member picks up the weapon of their choice.

Jules and Ed grab their 47's and reluctantly remove all but one bullet. Wordy takes the tranquilizer gun and the five darts that came with in the package he had yet to open. Greg takes his Glock and empties the chamber, one bullet remaining. Spike picks up his cell phone that he had thrown into the pile and smiles a very Spiky smile at Greg while everyone else in the room rolls their eyes at the tech. The goons have no idea how much damage Spike can do given a little time to play on his phone.

"Alright stupid, if you really want your phone, have at it man. The rest of you good? Good. You," he says pointing to another goon beside him. "Take that to the basement." He states motioning to the arsenal of various weapons lying helpless on the floor. "Boss instructed you to watch, so get busy. No chitter-chatter. Listen. This one will be fun. Don't you think?" he says talking to the remaining goon.

"A lot more entertaining than the last one." The goon responds.

The team's eyes lock in a worried glance with each other. Sam could be in serious trouble and now they're essentially being held hostage as well with one "guard" on each of the two doors and the third "guard" watching them from the back of the room. Spike's head is buried in his phone. Who knows what he's doing but it's probably something to do with the warehouse's structure or systems. Jules peers out of the glassed in opera box, her eyes immediately following the spot light directed on Sam. She can see the hurt in his pale face but she can also see his determination. As Sam is speaking to the man he calls Micah, Jules notices how he stops every few minutes blinking rapidly, his chest heaving as he gasps for air.

"What's the matter, Sam?" Micah sneers. "You tired? You wanna go home and make out with your girlfriend? You just wanna take a break from being the hero, from always being the good guy? You just wanna give up or something?" he snarls getting right in Sam's face. "Fight like a man, Braddock. Unless you wanna show me that you're a sissy."

He suddenly grabs Sam's right shoulder and pulls it forwards. Jules can almost hear the sickening pop of her boyfriend's shoulder becoming dislocated before Sam screams. Agony, hatred and determination are thick within his screams. Jules can hardly look at him anymore. As the screams abruptly settle into silence again she steals a glance at him and cannot suppress a gasp. Beads of sweat are forming on Sam's forehead, his panicking eyes dart around the room, blood seeps through the bandages on his leg, his right arm is limp and rather floppy as she assumes the bone was already broken and now his shoulder is dislocated. Sam's heart rapidly pounds against his ribcage.

Jules realizes that Sam cannot breathe and she turns towards her team. "Sarge, he's hyperventilating!"

Down on the ground; sweat drips into Sam's eyes causing him to blink even faster. He's gasping for air but he just can't get enough. He hears his pulse pounding in his ears. His blood is rushing to his right shin where he knows it is seeping through the bandages. He feels himself growing light-headed as if he's going to faint. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Micah walk closer to him, still holding the trigger. Sam doesn't understand this man's sudden mood swing. He was previously acting as if he was a father and now all of a sudden he's trying to kill Sam! Perhaps it is because he has an audience he's trying to impress, but it doesn't get him anywhere if his hostage ends up dead. Micah stops directly in front of Sam and kicks the young cop as hard as he can in his right shin. Sam lets out a scream of sheer terror before his eyes roll backwards and his head drops forward. His whole body is limp and weak. The only thing keeping him in a sitting position is the duct tape he's bound to the chair by.

"How dare you!" Micah roars, suddenly feeling out of control.

His hands clench into a tight fist. Before anyone really knows what's going on, a loud _CRACK_ splits the charged, silent air. Everyone gasps, including Micah a bullet discharges from the rifle. A small splatter of the victim's blood is the only indication that the incident ever happened.

Jules screams, "Sam!" from the opera box the same time Micah screams, "Sam!" from the ground.

Sam's head dangles loosely downwards as blood seeps through his hair. Micah lets the trigger tube fall to the ground as he drops to his knees in front of Sam, lifting the young cop's head up terrified of what he might have just done.

"Micah! Micah!" Terrance yells as he comes sprinting over with a small duffel bag of his paramedic equipment and supplies he may or may not have stolen five years ago.

"God what have I done?!" Micah shouts angrily at himself.

"Micah, does he have a pulse?" Terrance calls as he is nearing his boss.

"S***! S***! I don't know! D***! D***it Terrance!" He yells back unable to find the young officer's pulse.

Jules is trying to keep herself together in the opera box but she isn't very successful. Greg's arms are wrapped tightly around her petite, shaking body as she just stands in shock. He strokes her hair telling her not to look out of the box's window and down on the warehouse's floor where a bullet may have pierced through her boyfriend's skull.

"Micah! Focus! Does he have a pulse? Is he breathing at all?!"

"D***it Terrance! I don't know! I don't know! I don't feel anything! Help me! Help me." He pleads allowing Sam's head to drop forwards again.

"Ok, ok," Terrance pants as he stops right before Micah. "Take the duct tape off."

"What?! No!" Micah rebukes.

"Take the duct tape off or the kid's gonna die if he's not already dead!"

Micah just grunts as he quickly unbinds Sam's hands, arms and legs. His body falls forward and Micah struggles to keep him upright. Terrance is busy rummaging through his bag, pulling out a stethoscope, an IV bag of fluid, a needle, antiseptic wipes and more bandages.

"Get him on the floor. Lay him on his back." Terrance orders.

Micah does as he is told although he is typically the one giving orders. Sam's body is limply laid on the floor. There is absolutely no colour in his face. The sharp contrast between the warehouse's dark floor and Sam's ashen-white, unmoving face and body is terrifying. Blood seeps onto the floor adding a new colour to the deadly mix.

"Hurry up, Terrance."

"Alright, I'm here. I'm here." He says kneeling next to the young cop's motionless body and immediately places his stethoscope on his chest. After a very long minute he counts forty-three faint heart beats per minute, approximately. He glances up at Micah. "His pulse is too low. It's weak."

Laying his head on Sam's chest to hear his breathing, his eyes grow wide. Lifting his head, he looks directly into Micah's eyes and sees the panic from the tragedy three years ago, but he can't do anything about that now. "Micah, give him CPR and mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, he's not breathing."

"God Terrance, I can't do this."

"Micah please, you have to try. We don't have much time left. Please Micah, please. You're his only chance." A few eternal seconds pass and Terrance's fingers are still wrapped around Sam's wrist. "Micah his pulse is dropping. He's dying, Micah. He's dying. You can save him. Please, please. He's so young. He's so young, Micah. Don't let him die when you are right here and can save him."

"Terrance, I can't. I can't do this! Not again. Not again knowing that I might not be able to bring him back. You do it." Micah pleads, tears starting to stream down his face.

"Micah, I can't do it. The kid has a bullet wound to the head. I'm trying to make sure he doesn't die from this. S***." He mutters as one hand moves to Sam's neck for his pulse and is barely feeling it. "Micah you said you wanted a second chance. Another chance to save your son. You said you wanted to make it right. Save your son. Make it right. Don't let this kid die. Your son would die again. Please Micah. We're running out of time. Save your son."

Micah's eyes look at Terrance then at Sam. After a shaky in- and exhale, he starts pressing on Sam's chest and breathing for him. A minute passes and Sam is still not breathing but his pulse is higher.

"Terrance," he starts.

"Micah keep going, we have a minute and half left before it'll be too long for him." Is his short reply.

Micah obeys and puts everything he has into saving this cop's life despite the fact that he is the one that essentially took it.

In the opera box, Jules is panicking. Greg is holding her close to his chest, the whole team not knowing if Sam is alive. They see Micah performing CPR and they can only wonder how bad it really is. The "guards" are just smirking at each other enjoying the tenseness.

"Sarge, he's going to die. I can't bury my boyfriend!" Jules sobs.

"Jules," he starts but he doesn't know what to say. He can't tell her it will be ok, because it probably won't be. He can't say Sam will walk out of this perfectly fine. He can't really say anything.

"Terrance it's not working!" Micah screams. Tears are streaming down his face even harder and Terrance feels terrible for making him go through this again but Micah has to do this.

"Pump harder! He's not dead yet! Micah just do it!" he yells.

Sam's pulse is starting to drop again, even faster now. He's still not breathing and they only have about thirty seconds left before his brain shuts off and there'll be no hope for ever getting him back again. It's to the point where Terrance can't even feel Sam's pulse when Micah stops and looks helplessly up at him.

"He's gone. He's gone, Terrance! I couldn't do it! I had my second chance and I couldn't do it!" Micah sobs hysterically, laying his head on Sam's motionless chest.

"Micah! Do that again." He demands.

"Do what?"

"Slam your head down on his chest."

"Ok…" he says and thumps his head on Sam's chest.

"Harder."

Micah slams his head on down on Sam's chest much harder than the first time. Sam's body jerks as he gasps for air. Micah glances up at Terrance in disbelief who nods his head signally that yes, this is really happening.

"I guess he wasn't dead." Terrance suggests laughing slightly as Micah's hands are wrapped around Sam's face, stroking his cheek and forehead.

"Jacob? Son, look at me. Talk to me sweetie." Micah says suddenly, taking the young cop's limp hand and holding it up to his cheek.

Worry crosses Terrance's face as he realizes that the look in Micah's eyes isn't right. "Micah, that's not Jacob." He states quietly, very concerned for his friend.

"Of course it's Jacob. What are you talking about, Terrance?" Micah asks, starting to nuzzle Sam's pale cheek. "Come on, Jacob. It's time to wake up sweetie."

Terrance just shakes his head slowly in disbelief as his friend thinks this cop is his dead son. "Jacob is no longer with us, Micah. He passed away two years ago. Remember?" he asks quietly.

Micah's head darts up to look at Terrance. "What has gotten into you Terrance? My son is alive, he's right here. What's wrong with you? Help me get him home, will you?" He says refocusing his attention on "Jacob." "Come on baby. Let's get you home, sweetie. Terrance, are you going to help me or just stand there and watch me struggle?" he asks starting to scoop Sam up into his arms.

"Micah, this kid isn't Jacob. Your son's dead." Terrance breaks as gently as he can.

"Terrance! My god, what's wrong with you?! Help me carry my boy."

Terrance glances downwards and starts tending the bullet wound to the back of Sam's head. Blood is smeared all over Micah's hands from cradling the cop.

"Oh my god, the bullet. It didn't puncture his skull did it? It's bleeding heavily." Micah realizes.

"No, the bullet didn't puncture his skull. It grazed his head pretty badly though that's why it's bleeding so heavily. Another two centimeters further and it would've been bad. Micah what were you thinking?" Terrance asks.

"God I don't know. I didn't realize that it was Jacob, and I hurt him. I hurt my little boy, Terrance. I didn't mean to! I really didn't! I didn't recognize him until it was nearly too late." Micah explains, clearly rattled and upset over his irrational actions.

"Micah put him down."

"Why?"

"He needs medical attention."

"Help me carry him and we'll take him to the hospital." Micah states, trying to pick "Jacob" up again.

Terrance shakes his head 'no.' "Micah we kidnapped this kid. He's a cop. You brought him here to force him to listen to your story about Jacob's murder. You wanted something else though. You wanted him to denounce his faith or prove to you that God exists. We don't know him. He's not yours. He has his own family, his own father. He's not Jacob, Micah. I'm sorry."

This information slowly starts to sink in and Terrance can see the change in the look in Micah's eyes. "This isn't Jacob, is it. My son did die, didn't he. Who is he then?" Micah asks quietly, brushing the tears from his eyes.

"He's just a cop. He's a really sweet, loving, kid that we kidnapped."

"Why didn't you stop me, Terrance?"

"I tried to a few times. I know he looks almost identical to Jacob but he's not your boy."

"So I didn't hurt my boy?" Micah asks.

"No, but you hurt somebody else's."

Micah sniffles and lays Sam on the floor again before he opens his wallet and pulls out a picture of a handsome young man in his early twenties. He looks at Sam and then the picture. Sam starts to come around and Terrance calms him down.

"His eyes were greener. We would always say his eyes were like the Caribbean." Micah says softly, glancing at Sam's baby blue, half-opened eyes.

"Micah?" Sam asks quietly.

"Shhh," Terrance shushes the young cop quickly as he properly bandages Sam's shin. The bullet wound on the back of his head is beginning to clot nicely and Terrance doesn't bother with the IV. The kid really needs a bag of blood.

"You did this." Micah starts. A blaze of hatred erupts in his eyes. "You did this me! You made yourself look like him just to get out of here! How could you! You're a lying, no-good piece of s***! Why did I even waste my time kidnapping you when I just should've put a bullet through your skull when I had the chance?! You know, I'm sorry that bullet didn't puncture through your skull. I wish it had! That's what you deserve! And you know what?! I hope your god doesn't exist so you can go to Hell!" Micah screams at Sam, pulling out a knife and flicking the blade open.

"Micah, Micah, think about this. Think about this for a minute. This kid doesn't know who Jacob is or what happened to him or how it tore you apart. He doesn't know any of that. He's not trying to manipulate you. He's doing what you asked him to. He's proving the existence of God. That's all you asked him to do, remember?" Terrance says stepping in front of Sam's body, shielding him from any immediate harm.

"Yeah, I remember. He's been lying to me this whole time! There is no god! There never was and there never will be! He's a liar! Kill him, Terrance! Kill him! I want to watch him die in misery and never get the chance to tell anyone how much he loves them. Just like Jacob! He didn't get that chance! He was killed by the one person he truly loved, the one person he trusted. I can only hope that would happen to you Mr. Braddock if we weren't going to kill you right here and now."

"Micah, you know how badly Jacob's death hurt you. Think about how badly this would hurt Sam's family."

"Jacob was younger!" Micah screams as tears stream down his face. "He didn't deserve to die, but he does! Look what he's done to me! Look what he's made me think!" he yells the blade open as he steps even closer to Sam and Terrance.

"He's only what? Twenty-five? Come on, Micah. Neither of them should die."

"Micah please, I just want to help you." Comes Sam soft voice in the middle of the yelling-match.

Both men swivel their heads around to face the young cop who is struggling to get into a sitting position. Terrance steps forwards to help him up but Micah beats him to it and slams the knife against Sam's neck. The officer doesn't move though. He doesn't flinch, he doesn't protest, he just sits there and peers straight into Micah's eyes.

"I'm so sorry about your son. I'm sure he was a great kid and I wish I had the chance to meet him." Sam says quietly, not breaking eye contact with his kidnapper.

Micah's face suddenly changes as he looks down at the knife cutting into Sam's neck thinking, _'What the hell am I doing?'_ Terrance smiles at Sam, both of them knowing that his words struck a chord somewhere in Micah deep, deep, down.

"God I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking." Micah apologizes. He pulls the knife away from Sam's neck as the cop grimaces. A semi-heavy trickle of blood starts dripping down his neck and soaking into his shirt. "Sam?!" he cries when he sees the cop losing even more blood.

"I'm ok. It'll clot in a few minutes." Sam says gently with a slight smile on his lips.

"Here, let me help you up. I feel awful. This isn't your fault. It just comes over me sometimes and," he trails off.

"I know."

Micah nods once and scoops Sam up into his arms before setting him down on his own two feet. Sam is surprised on how strong Micah is but when his feet hit the ground, his world suddenly turns black. He starts to collapse to the ground, his eyes nearly closed.

"Sam!" Micah yells as he reaches out to grab the cop before he hits the cement.

He catches Sam then gently lays him on the floor. The kid's eyes are nearly closed and his face is white. Micah taps Sam's cheek and feels for his pulse. It's weak and slow. The cut on his neck is bleeding heavier now and the graze on his head is also starting to bleed again.

"Talk to me, Sam. Stay with me." He pleads as he cradles the young officer in his arms again.

Sam's eyes open wider and a bit of colour returns to his face. Micah places him on his feet again keeping one arm wrapped around his back. A second later, Sam's body falls limp in Micah's arms as he faints.

"Terrance, what's wrong with him?!"

"He's lost a lot of blood, Micah. His body can't keep up." He explains as Micah sits Sam down in the chair again, re-taping his arms, hands and legs.

"Too bad, it has to." Micah responds adjusting the sniper rifle again and picking the trigger tube up off the ground. "He still has to prove his case. Nobody's going anywhere until we're done."

Two minutes later Sam's eyes start to flutter open. They look around the dark warehouse in confusion before they settle on Micah's face, questioning.

"Talk." He demands as Sam nods.

Terrance steps closer to Micah. "You don't have to do this. There is another way." He says quietly.

Micah shakes his head. "No, there's not."

"Where were we Micah before all of this mess happened?" Sam asks genuinely not knowing the answer to his question.

"You had just been explaining Julius Caesar and trying to tell me that there is a god who loves me."

"Ok. I'm going to try another route. God is the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, right? If I can prove Jesus' existence, which in a way is God's existence, then that obviously proves God's existence. Agreed?" Sam suggests.

"Sure." Micah agrees, losing interest a bit. He waits for the reply as Terrance gives sips of Gatorade to Sam.

"Alright, good. You've probably heard about the king that was ruling Jerusalem when Jesus was a very young child. That king was Herod. Josephus, the historian that I told you about earlier that wrote the _Antiquities of the Jews_ among many other documentations, describes Herod's reign. He says that it lasted a few months over thirty-four years. This time period is from his capture of Jerusalem which was in September to when he died thirty-four years later during the winter sometime after Yom Kippur, the fast day, after a lunar eclipse which Josephus and a few other historians described, yet before the Passover." Sam explains.

"Sounds confusing. You sure you're just not making this stuff up?" Micah presses.

"Why would I make it up? It's not like it's going to get me somewhere if I lie to you. You're not going to let me go until you hear what God's wanted you to hear for quite some time." Sam says honestly.

"Keep talkin'" Micah instructs.

"Ok, so I'm going go all the way back. Joseph, son of Jacob was "dating" Mary. Now, Joseph was exactly a rich guy, I mean, he was a carpenter. He and Mary were going to get married and then suddenly, they find out that Mary's pregnant. It's sort of hard to get pregnant if you don't have sex with someone and that someone wasn't Joseph. As it turns out, it wasn't with anyone. The Holy Spirit, the same one that gives us that guilty feeling when we do something wrong today, had "given" Mary the child. It was prophesied in Isiah 7:14. _'Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign: The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and will call him Immanuel.'_ That's exactly what happened; only her fiancé didn't know that at the time. In that culture, if you are not married and you have a child, people are very condescending towards you. Joseph thought that Mary had been cheating on him. That's a logical conclusion isn't it?" Sam asks.

He waits for Micah to nod before continuing.

"Joseph was getting ready to divorce her when he had a dream. It was pretty typical back then for people to be visited by angels when they're given dream from God. But, I mean, it's an angel. They're pretty intimidating. Anyway, we don't know for sure which angel it was, but this angel pretty much said, 'Go and marry Mary. She's been given a son from the Holy Spirit, you are to name him Jesus because he will save his people from their sins. People will call him Immanuel, meaning God with us.' And that's what Joseph did. He married Mary she gave birth to a son and he gave him the name Jesus. Let's back track a little bit though. You know how every says Jesus was born in a stable because there was no room for them in any of the inns? Well, there wasn't any room in the inns but he was pretty much born in a cave with livestock all around them. So it was a little more unpleasant than it would've been in a stable. Now, why was Jesus born in a cave, in a manger? A manger in a cave is much like the human heart. It's cold, dark and dirty. Our hearts are cold, dark and dirty without Christ showing us the way. Now, Micah, the prophet Micah actually prophesied that the Messiah would be born in Bethlehem, but let's goes back a bit further. Joseph and Mary weren't living in Bethlehem at the time. They were living in the town Nazareth which was in Galilee but Caesar Augustus had called for a census of the entire Roman world. That was the first census that took place while Quirinius was governor of Syria. So Mary and Joseph started towards Judea to Bethlehem the town of David, because Joseph belonged to the house and line of David. He had to go there to register for the census. It was a fairly long journey and by the time they arrived, Mary was about to pop. Since everyone was instructed to go to their home town, there wasn't anywhere for them to stay so Mary could give birth to Jesus. Someone offered their "cave" to them and that's where Jesus was born. In a dark, cold, dirty cave with a feeding trough as a cradle and cattle and sheep all around them, was were the Messiah that would save the world from all of it's past, present and future sins, was born."

"And," Micah asks.

Sam blinks a few times to refocus his eyes. He feels the wound on his neck starting to ooze blood again as Terrance trots over with gauze and a bandage. The ex-medic cleans the cut with antiseptic before gently pressing the gauze and bandage onto Sam's neck. Micah sits down on the floor, exhausted as he pulls a picture out of his wallet again and glances down at it sadly.

"Want to talk about it?" Sam asks quietly.

_**A/N: **__Alright! Again, I'm really, really sorry this took so long….my life is calming down so these chapters will come faster. Thanks again for your never ceasing interest in my craziness. And for all you dads out there, Happy Father's Day! Please review…. I want to know what you think! _


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